The God of Dragons
by RuRuLaLa
Summary: Charlie Weasley starts a cult. He regrets it immensely. Meanwhile, Harry has a little girl time with his dragon lady friends. Side story to 'Oh You didn't Know? Yeah He's Awesome'. Gift fic for my 100th reviewer RRW.


**Title**: The God of Dragons

**Rating**: T

Genre: Humor/Crack

**Warning**: Strong Language, Stupidity, Slashy suggestions, Disturbing Dragon Obsession or DDO for short.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling

**Summary**: Charlie Weasley starts a cult. He regrets it immensely. Meanwhile, Harry has a little girl time with his dragon lady friends. Side story to 'Oh You didn't Know? Yeah He's Awesome'. Gift fic for my 100th reviewer RRW

**~oOo~**

The spacious Hall was dimly lit and somberly decorated. Heavy tapestries lined the walls, each depicting grand and intricately detailed dragons of all types and sizes. Pushed against the side of this room was a long table packed with a sumptuous feast of meats and fruit, fit for a King and his court. Torches ensconced on the walls and a large crystal chandelier filled with hundreds of small candles served as the only source of light. In the front of the room, upon a small stage, a robed man stood behind a podium, his hood masking his identity. Before him, a group of similarly dressed people stood at attention. Not a murmur could be heard from them. The group perfectly waited for the session to begin.

No, this was not a mere Death Eater meeting, or a Lord of The Rings Convention…

"Let us begin!" The figure boomed, lifting his hood in one smooth motion. It was Charlie Weasley. His longish red hair shone copper in the flickering fire light, his handsome countenance grave. "The 23rd meeting of the Cult of Harry Potter: God of Dragons starts at 8:30 PM. Has the scribe noted this?"

A figure seated off to the side of Charlie, quill and parchment in hand, nodded elegantly. "The Scribe has noted this. Praise be to Potter."

"Potter be praised," Charlie intoned back. "We will begin with our prayer. Everyone, bow your heads and raise Harry Potter Action Figures high –"

"Is it ok to use the Quidditch addition Harry Potter? I forgot my Triwiz Tournament version."

Charlie gave a long suffering sigh. "Yes, that's fine for now. But if you could please remember to bring the Tournament Harry Potter – the one we all _voted_ on for 5 hours – next time? Ok. Now let's bow our heads –"

"Uhhh I only brought the detachable robe of my action figure."

"Damnit Tony, you did this every time!" Charlie said amidst the groans of exasperation the other cult members.

"I'm sorry alright, I've got kids at home," Tony said, shrugging helplessly. "All I ask is that they don't mess with daddy's beer or daddy's sacred holy items but well…they did fall off Sparky the Dragon's back at a young age so one outta two ain't half bad, you gotta admit that."

"Fine, fine! Just…use that. Whatever. Now bow – "

"I have to go to the bathroom –"

"You know what? Forget the prayer." The agitated Weasley tossed the scroll with the sacred script over his shoulder. "Before we go over what's on the agenda tonight, I'd like to make a few announcements:

"First I'd like to congratulate Ronan here on successfully hatching our first clutch of Chinese Fireball-Norwegian Ridgeback hybrids." His legion of followers dully clapped. "I'm sure we all remember that the Mother Dragon was too sick to take care of the eggs. I'm sure we were all worried that we might not be able to save these eggs because, as we all know and fear, only the warmth of a buxom bottom would keep them alive.

"But Ronan really stepped up his game and sat on each egg for ten minute intervals for an entire week straight. Now _that_ everyone is what being a part of this barely legal cult is all about! Let's give a hand for Ronan!"

Ronan, who was hunched over with a giant cast molded onto his butt, smiled sheepishly as his Brothers and Sisters congratulated him heartily.

"Great job Ronan," Charlie continued. "If anyone wants to sign Ronans cast there are Crayola Markers available on the food table.

"Oh! One more announcement before I forget; Marcus' suggestion on a Bring Your Own Full Grown Dragon day for later meetings has been denied on account of that being the stupidest idea ever. Sorry Marcus."

Marcus folded his arms and sulked while the other members patted his back in sympathy.

"Ok. Let's move on to the first order of business. Margaret, how has our effort to get our book 'Harry Potter; Mouthpiece of the Dragons' taught as a History course in Hogwarts been going?"

"Well my Liege, I was finally able to get an appointment at the Ministry."

"And what did they say?"

"'Not a chance in hell', sir."

"Excellent! They actually answered this time. We're making progress."

"Yay!" Cheered the other cult members.

"What about our prayer? How did they feel about our proposal to have it said at every meal?"

"They threw me out of the office, sir."

"Boo," said the cult members.

"And they threw our book at my head."

"Boooo!"

"And they said my jeans made my butt look big."

"…"

Margaret whirled around, expression indignant. "Hey!"

"Oh come on Maggie! Those things look like two hams trapped in a small potato sack, and twice as starchy! You have to know that!" said Tony.

"I think your bum looks fine, Maggie."

Maggie smiled appreciatively. "_Thank you_ Greg" She grinned triumphantly at Tony, who stuck his tongue out at her as a brilliant rebuttal.

"It reminds me of the Hungarian Horntail – scaly and humungous. A work of art!"

"WHAT!?"

Before Maggie could destroy Greg, Charlie banged his gavel to grab everyone's attention. "Order, order! Greg, Tony – we must treat our Brothers and Sisters as we want to be treated."

"Yes my Liege," the two named men intoned sullenly.

"And Maggie, start wearing pants that fit. This is a cult, not a strip club for retirees," Charlie blinked, "wow, I should not want to be a part of either of those things. I really need to reexamine my life." He cleared his throat. "Ah, anyway, on to the next order of business. Sacrifices – are we doing this thing or what?"

Eagerly the cult members waved their hands in the air like they just didn't care.

"We should do people!"

"People that we don't like!"

"How about, people that we don't like _annnnnd_ that don't like dragons?"

Everyone ooohed over the proposal and murmured their agreement to it.

"While it's a great idea in theory, we can't sacrifice people," Charlie burst their bubble.

"Why not!?"

"Because it's illegal."

"Ohhhh, right. The murder." Cult member #54 (who Charlie could never remember the name of…as with many of his Brothers and Sisters) slapped a hand to his forehead. "I always forget that part."

"Annnnd that worries me a little. Any other suggestions? Remember, it has to please our Lord and Savior Harry Potter so that our Dragon Herds are bountiful and their eggs plenty."

"What about hookers? They're only slightly people."

"No, Andrew…"

"Because I have one –"

"…we can't just go around killing people. Oh…sorry for cutting you off, what were you about to say?"

"…nothing."

"How about lambs?"

"What!? No! How could you say that, Maggie?"

"Yeah, lambs are cute!"

"God Maggie, what is going on in your head, woman?"

Margaret looked around helplessly as everyone gave her disapproving looks. "B-b-but dragons _eat_ the lambs!"

"Yeah, they're dragons. It's the natural order of things."

"Tch, everybody knows that."

"You're a bad person, Maggie."

"I – I – but…" She growled in frustration and stomped her foot. "I hate being the only girl in this cult."

"Now, now," Charlie spoke up. "Let's not pick on Maggie, even though she deserves it."

"Arrrrgh! I hate you guys!"

"Well it doesn't look like we're getting anywhere on this. We'll just have to postpone it until the next meeting…_again_."

Andrew muttered, sullenly, "'Still say we should use hookers."

"Kill hookers on your own time Andrew! Don't bring that shit in here," Charlie barked.

"Sorry, my Liege."

"Ahem. For our last order of business; our plans for a grand statue to be placed in the Ministry Atrium so that the heathen masses can be educated on the greatness of our God King is on hiatus because the blue prints are still in the works."

"How far along are we on them?" asked Tony.

"We're not," Charlie deadpanned, waving a mostly blank piece of paper that had the title "Most Awesomely BAMF Statue of Harry Potter in History" scribbled on the top. "We still haven't decided on a basic design yet. So far we've managed to agree on Harry riding…on the back of a dragon… Jesus H.…" he sighed, "alight, let's start with the type of dragon. Any suggest – "

"Hungarian Horntail!"

"Swedish Short Snout!"

"Oooh ooh! The Antipodean Opaleye! That is so hot right now."

"Oi! We're not doing this to be mainstream. We use the Hebridean Black, the fiercest dragon of them all!"

"Flying Purple People Eater!"

"Stop-stop-stop-stop!" Charlie shouted over the commotion. "This is getting us nowhere. We'll just make a ballad box and cast our votes the next meeting. Sound good? Great. Moving on; there was some talk of…embellishments on the statue last meeting, such as a wand or a mighty sword to showcase our Lord's greatness –"

"Oooooh! Our Lord should definitely have double Katana swords!"

"I'm getting really tired of being cut off," Charlie sighed.

"How about a shot gun!"

"What's a shot gun?"

"I have no idea!"

"What about a baseball cap?" Ronan timidly suggested.

"…Meh," the other members said with unenthusiastic shrugs.

"Wait wait wait! What if the baseball cap…were turned _sideways_?"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," they said amongst agreeable mutters.

"I think he should have a guitar!"

"No! What he really _needs_ is some rockin' tits."

"What!?" Margaret shouted incredulously. "Our Lord is a boy! Why would you do that? Why would you _want_ that?"

"Tch! Jeeze Maggie, don't you know anything about symbolism?"

"It's completely obvious."

"You don't know anything Maggie!"

"We hate you SO much!"

"Uggggggh! I knew I shouldn't have trusted a cult listed on Craigs List."

"What if he had sunglasses?"

"What if the _dragon_ had sunglasses?"

"I will leave this cult if the dragon doesn't have sunglasses!"

"I second that!"

"So we're all in agreement. Harry Potter will have a guitar, a sideways baseball cap, a shotgun, massive boobies…"

Charlie rested his head on his fist and groaned. At this rate they would never get the petition to the Ministry in time…or finish the meeting before getting kicked out of the Marriott. He sighed a long suffering sigh. Best start making reservations at another Hotel. He just hoped the Hilton would let them back in after last times' Naked Vanilla Pudding Dragon Sculpting incident.

**~oOo~**

MEANWHILE! In a Dragon Enclosure Harry is not supposed to be in…

"_Laaaaaaadies_!" Harry sing-songed as he shimmied on in through the gate. "I have arrived."

The four great dragons gave him unimpressed looks from behind their dragon sized tea cups. They were all sitting, very dainty like, around a dragon sized table. The table cloth was pure white with extra-cute little doilies decorating it, and a ginormous teapot rested in the center.

"Took you long enough," griped the Swedish Short-Snout.

Harry grinned up at the aquamarine scaled giant. "Oh ho, you'll thank me for that once you see…this!" he whipped out a bottle of Fire Whiskey, which he summarily enlarged to the size of two wine barrels. "Tea time just became party time, heh heh."

"I'll drink to that!" said the Hungarian Horntail amidst the cheers and cat calls of the other dragons.

The Chinese Fireball easily lifted the large bottle with her clawed paw and poured a copious amount of the liquor into the other girls' tea cups. Harry had the brief thought of fire breathing dragons + alcohol = death to all, before dismissing it and pouring a flask of Speshul Drunk Juicy Juice elixir into his Harry sized tea cup. Paaaaaaaartay!

"So gals," Harry said as he settled into his chair with crossed legs, "what's the 411?"

"_Wellllllll_ you know that mystery male I've been mating with?" started the Chinese Fireball.

The Hungarian Horntail snorted derisively. "You finally going to tell us who he is, are you? After all the fuss you've put on about him you'd think he was famous or something."

"…Is it Harry?" said the Welsh Green.

Harry choked on his tea. Who would be – HOW!? Oh God. _Arggggggh_ the imagery!

"Of course not! Are you completely mad!?"

"Sorry, sorry!" the poor Welsh Green was flushing a purpley-blue in embarrassment.

"Of course I wouldn't be with her! She's a girl!"

"WHAT!?"

"I said she's a dragon."

The Welsh Green sighed in relief while the other dragons eyed Harry warily. Sometimes they worried about that boy.

"Ah, anyway, the male I've been seeing is…a Norwegian Ridgeback."

The lady dragons plus one human teen all gasped at such a scandal.

"How exotic," the Swedish Short-Snout praised.

The Hungarian Horntail leered over her teacup. "I heard those Ridgebacks were _wicked_ mates in a clearing."

"Cheers to that!" the Short-Snout and the Horntail clinked their cups before breaking down into giggles.

"Aren't you worried about what you're parents will say?" Piped the Welsh Green worriedly.

"Oh, they completely disapprove!" The Fireball said happily. She was grinning from horn to horn, as if someone had announced that Christmas was every day of the year and her present was a lifetime supply of slaughtered sheep. "They keep going on and on about how he's a bad influence and that I should concentrate on school and not males and how our clutch of babies will consume my flesh and live in my stomach until they're mature…you know, typical parental worries."

"Aren't you concerned about that at all? "

"Well…maybe a little but…" she sighed wistfully, her golden eyes staring off into the distance. "He's so dreaaaaaaaaaaaaaamy."

"Love triumphs over cannibalism!" Harry cheered, lifting his little teacup in the air.

The other dragons followed suit, clinking their cups and pantomiming the move at Harry. They didn't want to squish the little teen after all.

"Well, my news isn't as exciting," the Welsh Green started hesitantly. "But I've started a new diet –"

The Horntail rolled her eyes, her neck swinging in tandem with the force of her exasperation. "_Again_ with that? What is this, the eighth new diet you've started this month?"

"You know all those fad diets are a load of bull, right?" said the Short-Snout.

"But this ones different guys!" protested the Welsh. "What you have to do is divide in half the amount of humans you eat in a day by two, so I've only been eating…98."

Her dragon friends all gasped in horror at such an idea.

"That's insane!"

"You can't live like that, it's impossible!"

"You'll waste away, girl!" Harry said forcefully. He was not one to allow a voluptuous young lady be insecure about their natural curves. Fuck skinny bitches. No he was not drunk. "More importantly, you'll lose your ass."

If dragons had a bottom lip, the Welsh Green's would surely be trembling. "B-b-but my m-m-mate says my butt is too big."

The little brunette made a noise of disgust. "What does he know? Your ass is _perfection_. If I could marry your ass I would!"

"Harry's right!" the Fireball chimed. She placed a comforting claw on the Welsh's shoulder. "Your body is amazing! I would kill for those curves!" She gestured to her own golden, snake like body. It was long and sinuous. Less thick than the Basilisk's, but not something your hand could easily wrap around.

"You really think so?" The Welsh warbled hopefully.

"Honey, we _know_ so," said the Horntail. "Tch, what a typical male; always trying to take their stupid little insecurities out on their females. This male sounds like the worst kind too. Does he try to bash your head in with his horns and eat your brains after mating?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Ugh, what a macho-man," scoffed Fireball, "could he be trying any _harder_. Honestly."

"Boy if I had a lamb's decapitated head for every time _my_ mate has done that when another male struts by. It's like, I'm obviously with _you_, why do you always have to prove yourself, you know?"

"Mmmhmm." The Horntail turned back to the Welsh. "And how many clutches does he usually produce with a female? Three? Four? It's stuff like this that really get their scales in a twist."

"Actually…he usually has only…one."

"One!?" Horntail burst out. The other girls weren't fairing much better, all giggling uncontrollably like school girls. The Swedish Short-Snout had snorted out tea through her nose, causing a torrent of blue flames to rain down on the only human occupant.

Harry threw himself under the table, and just in time too. Within seconds his chair was reduced to nothing but a black patch of charred grass.

The other dragons panicked, and lowered their necks in order to better see what had become of their human friend.

"Oh Harry! Are you alright, dear!?" called the Short-Snout.

Harry popped his head from under the table, and blinked up at the suddenly up-close and personal dragons. He smiled. "Ha! One clutch of eggs? What a loser!" Ok. Maybe he was a little tipsy.

They continued their chatting and gossiping for the rest of the night. Harry learned that yes, dragons in general _were_ pretending to like treasure and shiny objects just to confound humanity (a theory he had come up with and sent in to any animal focused magazine he could fine, and was summarily rejected. Who's laughing now Discovery Channel? Huh!?). The Dragons, in turn, learned that yes, humans were stupid enough to believe that dragons were merely beasts of burden and didn't enjoy Soap Operas like any other average Joe. Who the hell could resist Telenovela? Not the Hungarian Horntail, that's for damn sure.

Sadly, Harry had to bid his girlfriends adieu, as it was long past his curfew. After an overly tearful goodbye and Harry giving the Welsh Green a bottle of Scale-So-Soft cream he had promised her.

When he returned to Gyrffindor Common Room Ron and Hermione were the only ones there, although Hermione was snoozing adorably on the redhead's shoulder and Ron didn't look too far from conking out as well.

Harry tiptoed over to his friends and plopped down in the seat beside Ron. He waved his wand and a warm blanket appeared over Hermione, who made a little noise of contentment before snuggling into Ron.

"Thought I told you guys not to wait up for me?" he whispered.

Ron blinked back at him groggily and gave a little shrug. "Yeah but…you know how Hermione is."

Harry nodded, and exchanged a fond look with Ron as they recalled how overly anxious Hermione got about the thought of being caught up after curfew.

"'Sides," his best friend continued, "this letter came for you a while ago. Here – already checked it for curses, so don't worry about that."

Harry smiled at his friend's thoughtfulness, then unrolled the scroll. It read:

_Dear Beloved God of All That is Good and Dragonly,_

_How do you feel about rockin' tits?_

Underneath this question was a picture of a stick figure version of Harry riding a dragon, his arms raised in the air triumphantly with a sword and mug of beer clutched in both hands respectively. And drawn with painstaking care were a pair of magnificent boobs on his chest where no boobs should ever be.

The picture was animated. The boobs were bouncing.

_Yours Faithfully,_

_The Cult of Harry Potter: God of Dragons_

_P.S. We're still working on a better name. Suggestions?_

Harry was frozen in place. There were no thoughts he could formulate, no words that could leave his lips, that could properly describe the amount of "WHAT THE COMPLETE ASS FUCK!?" that he was going through right now.

At the length of his friend's stunned silence, Ron looked over his shoulder at the letter. "What's wrong mate –"

The parchment was immediately ripped the shreds. Then the shreds were burned, and the ashes watered, then burned again, then River Danced on.

When Harry finished the last of his two step, he finally turned to his wide eyed friend. "We must never speak of this," he deadpanned.

"Er – "

"Ever."

"Ah, ok mate," Ron said. He was giving him a cautious look, which was well deserved. On the other hand, Harry was going to have nightmares for the rest of his life, so they were even. "Whatever you say."

Secrecy confirmed Harry was all smiles again. "Right. Goodnight Ron! See you in the morning."

"Night Har'."

The Boy-Who-Lived scurried off to his rooms. It was going to take a looooooooooong while before he could scrub his retinas clean.

**~oOo~**

End Notes:

Huh, I wonder what's crackier, this or He's Awesome? Who's up for a vote!? I am. I vote both.

Remember kids, P. Diddy says Vote or Die…and to drink your milk. #_shakes fist_# Driiiink it!

Well, I hoped you all liked this silliness. Especially you RRW, my beloved 100th reviewer you! I'm sorry I didn't add the bit with the House-Elves, but there's nothing that says I can't make another One-Shot eh? Wink wink, nudge nudge.

…. #_stage whisper_# What I'm saying is is that I'm going to do it later! O.O

Love you all! And remember (because I won't let you forget) Like it? Hate it? Tell me about it!


End file.
